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Updated: June 17, 2025
Soon after he left the hotel, saying that he would send for his luggage later. But even after he had done all that, Captain Frazier stood motionless in the grounds watching the darkened windows of Gerelda's room. The fire in his brain, produced by the potion he had taken, made sad havoc with his imagination.
It was a nine-days' subject for pity and comment, and then the public ceased to think about it, and Gerelda's fate was at last forgotten. Hubert Varrick then arranged his business for a trip abroad, and when he said good-bye to his mother and Mrs. Northrup, he added that he might be gone years, perhaps forever.
From his leafy seat Varrick could hear and see all that took place, while no one could see him. He had risen, and was just about to step forward, when he caught sight of Gerelda's face. The color of it held him spell-bound. It was as pale as death, and her eyes flashed fire. She was fairly frothing at the mouth, and the look of venomous rage that distorted her features appalled him.
He drew back among the large-leaved plants, which would effectually screen him from the intruders, and hoped that their stay would be short. "I tell you it will be impossible for you to see her," said a voice, which he recognized as belonging to Gerelda's maid. "But I must," retorted another voice which sounded strangely familiar.
The girl's face, framed in that mass of curling dark hair, the white arms great God! how strangely like Gerelda's! Was he going mad? He strained his eyes to see, and a terrible cry of agony broke from his lips. "Captain!" he shrieked, "somebody, anybody, get me a life-boat, quick, for the love of Heaven! Half my fortune for a life-boat quick!"
Jessie drew a long, deep breath, ere she could reach forth to secure the all-important paper, a great faintness seized her, and throwing up her hands, she fell in a dead faint beside Gerelda's bed. Scarcely a moment had elapsed ere the portières that shut off an inner room were thrust quickly aside by a man's hand. Captain Frazier had seen all that had transpired.
Hubert would have taken the girl he loved so madly, in his arms on sight and covered her face with kisses, but she held him off at arm's-length, though she longed to rest in his strong arms and weep on the broad bosom that she knew beat for her alone. "No, you must not touch me, Hubert," she whispered. "It would not seem right so so soon after after poor Gerelda's untimely death."
"My God! can I live through it?" he muttered. "How can I live and endure it? How can I stand by and see the girl I love made another man's bride, without the mad desire to slay him overpowering me? If I would not have the crime of murder on my soul, I must leave this place to-night, and never look upon Gerelda's beautiful face again. One day more of this would drive me mad.
Varrick sank down upon a fallen log, and buried his face in his hands. For a moment he could scarcely realize Gerelda's untimely fate. He had not loved her, it was true; still, he would have given his life to have had her reason restored to her. For an hour or more Hubert Varrick forgot his own sorrow in alleviating the terrible distress of others.
He said to himself that it would be best to stop there for a few hours until daylight, at least, and to recover Gerelda's body if possible. He followed the path until it brought him to the edge of a little brook. The white, shining stones that rose above the eddying little wavelets seemed to invite him to cross to the other side. Midway over the brook he paused.
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